


Sacrifice

by archi



Series: By Grace, We Are Saved [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Major Character Death(?), season 8 finale speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archi/pseuds/archi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas said he knew how to fix it, knew what to do. Ice cold and thick as molasses the realization stuck in Dean’s throat and found passage through his veins, right down to his toes, freezing him in place. It wasn’t surprise, though, or shock, just a final decisive crack in a pattern of splinters that wound around his heart, all affixed with the grief of losing him.</p><p>Note: <b>This verse reads as one continuous story</b> Some sections overlap as told from different pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arisprite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/gifts).



It took a moment for Castiel’s words to work through the gears of Dean’s mind. The wind pushed against the shells of his ears and ripped between the layers of his clothing as the tempests of heaven and hell raged above them, the battle expanding in violent clashes.

Cas said he knew how to fix it, knew what to do. Ice cold and thick as molasses the realization stuck in Dean’s throat and found passage through his veins, right down to his toes, freezing him in place. It wasn’t surprise, though, or shock, just a final decisive crack in a pattern of splinters that wound around his heart, all affixed with the grief of losing _him_.

Castiel turned his face to Dean, expression trembling between resignation, resolve, and the most terrible apology. Sam, already overtaxed by the trials, staggered into Dean as he too received the full force of Castiel’s meaning. Dean was aware in a distant sort of way that Sam’s too-big hand was gripping his elbow tightly, but he couldn’t feel it. Cas looked just a glance away to Sam, solemnity giving way to a gentle smile – broken and shattered, but fond, and too awful to linger on.

“No,” Sam gasped.

“It’s the only way, Sam,” Cas’ voice could barely be heard over the air whipping about them, but it was firm and gentle all at once, and Dean wondered at the way Cas shrouded this _wrong wrong wrong_ in such a soothing tone. When had Heaven’s Hammer learnt to wrap his thunderbolts in downy comforters?

 _Sacrifice…sacrifice_ …Cas.

There was a flurry of words from his side – Sam arguing, pleading, hold on, we can try something else, we’ll figure it out, please Cas, no…

The paralysis slowly worked its way backwards and Dean became aware again of the frantic pull of the wind through his clothing, Sam’s trembling fingers.

“We’re running out of time,” Cas said. Sam shook his head, too weak to stagger back as Cas approached, reaching up. Sam’s protests died as his head was gently pulled down. Cas planted a careful kiss on Sam’s brow as the tired eyes slipped close in acceptance.

“Goodbye, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam nodded as Cas’ fingers fell away, “Bye, Cas,” his voice shuddered over the raw edges in his throat.

Dean swallowed around the persistent remnants of paralysis, unable to push anything but shaky breaths past, which anyway stopped as Cas once again looked to him. A new heaviness settled over the drooping edges of his eyes and Dean saw in them every other moment, every parting and every other apology all boiling together in a terrible crescendo – to this moment that felt so much more like the last. The sorry that Dean wanted least of all.

He didn’t know if Sam had let go or if he’d simply stepped back but all he felt was the fierce storm tearing moisture away as it blurred his vision and crept past his eyelids. He gasped a little, blinking and trying to clear his vision, trying to hold on to every sense that fed him any part of his friend.

“Cas…” the pathetic noise ripped out, raw and pleading, “Don’t.”

Confusion and anger tore at his heart as Castiel’s face relaxed, as if exhaling his apology into the skies, his expression settling into a sad sort of peace. “I am sorry that it’s ending this way, Dean,” he looked away, just for a moment, then back, “But…I don’t regret it.”

Dean swallowed, blinking again to bring his vision into focus.

“Not one instant, Dean. Do you understand?”

He wanted to shake his head, roar that Cas shouldn’t have been lost or sorry or confused or anything that he’d ever been on account of Dean. _Lost fallen angry sorry..so sorry._

But then Cas was coming closer and his anger was lost in a flash of panic but he was rooted to the spot as finger pads found landing in the hair on the side of his head and Cas’ thumb ghosted over his eyelashes and slipped a little on stray tears as Dean’s lids closed. And then there were lips against his own, warm and chapped, and in the chaste exchange everything but Cas fell away and Dean’s fingers trembled in the folds of the worn overcoat sleeves.

And in those moments his caught breath was a blessing as he tried to be still, eyebrows pulled together as he just _felt_ …the unfamiliar gentle scrape of stubble…the press of Cas’ sharp nose into his cheekbone and maybe it was the only speck of shining _rightness_ in this overwhelming _wrong_.

And he breathed as Cas pulled back and felt a shuddering breath turned back on his lips, and Dean couldn’t _not_ look at the redness creeping in the corner of Cas’ eye or the way his mouth pulled tight and they simply looked.

Then Cas blinked, stepped back, nodded, and turned.

He strode away, the upright angel in a man’s suit, moving purposefully towards his death, face upturned as if it were the most natural thing and Dean’s entire being screamed at the _wrong wrong wrong_ and Dean’s feet made to run after him but Sam staggered into his side, straining and weak in the fury, and Dean looked away just for a moment to steady his brother.

And when he looked up again to find Cas, to hold onto the sight of dark, whipping hair and the billowing tan, he found only the raging of the trees and leaves and grass, trying to follow his friend into the heavens.


End file.
